Bernadette was about thirteen, of ordinary stature, with a peculiarly gentle face. Her features, tanned brown by the Pyrenean sun, were delicate, her eyes blue, and -- perhaps so described by an after-thought -- mysterious. She was certainly not a rude child of the mountains, but looked, in childhood, already touched by the Beyond with which she was soon to communicate. Found to be suffering from asthma, she was at this time kept much within the house by her mother's care. But she was used to the free air, and needed it, and on the eleventh of February, 1858, she besought her mother to let her go with her sister Marie and her friend Jeanne Abadie to the Gave, to pick up fallen wood under the trees of its banks. The mother at first refused; but the child -- perhaps inspired -- persisted, and finally snatched a permission. Towards eleven o'clock Bernadette set out. She wore a little black frock, faded, and much patched. Her feet were in sabots, and over her head, besides the handkerchief which she wore in common with her companions, was a long white capeline, which came down over her shoulders and her arms. The child was happy, and went gaily across the bridge. Marie and Jeanne set immediately to work, and their aprons were soon heaped with the windfalls from the branches. But Bernadette was tired with her run, and had not picked up any wood when she saw that the two other little girls had strayed across a narrow stream that ran thereby, making an island of the place where they had worked, and were seeking for wood at the foot of the Massabielle rocks on the opposite bank. She wished to join them, but the water was ice-cold, and the delicate child called to her sister to throw large stones into the stream so that she might cross without wading. Then, leaning against a rock, she pulled off one of her stockings. She had hardly done this when a rushing wind suddenly arose in the valley and passed. It was so unusual that she was startled, stopped, and looked about her. All was still. Bernadette had hardly recovered her surprise when one of the grottoes in the Massabielle rocks seemed to her to be alight. Then all at once took place the Miracle of Lourdes, the Apparition. The light was around a figure, a woman's figure in white. Bernadette fell instantly to her knees and sought for her rosary. Over the beads of prayer her fingers closed, but she could not speak, and she faced the vision. The white form had grown exceedingly distinct. It was that of a lovely woman who smiled at the child. A long white garment of many folds covered her; but the feet were naked and just touched the branches of a wild bramble; on each foot flowered a golden-coloured rose. From her hands, folded breast high, hung a rosary; from the back of the head a white veil that flowed downwards with her dress. She was girt about the waist with a blue cincture.

Apparition of the Blessed Virgin to Bernadette Soubirous, March 25, 1858

Bernadette tried to make the sign of the Cross, but could not raise her hand to her forehead. Thereupon the Lady smiled still more kindly and began the sign of the Cross on her own brows. Then Bernadette too could cross herself, and began to say her prayers -- the Lord's Prayer, the Hail Mary, and the Creed. The Lady seemed to listen with pleasure to the last word, and when it was uttered vanished.

Bernadette seeing the vision no more, looked, round, stood up, crossed the brook, went closer to the Grotto, peered within, and searched around it, but saw nothing except the wild rose-tree and the wilder rock. "Have you seen anything?" she called to her companions. They called back, "No!" She said no more. But that day, haunted by her vision, she told her mother what had happened, and her sister. The poor family thought their child was deluded, and resolved to forbid her return to the rocks of Massabielle. She was ordered to avoid the place, and for two days she obeyed. Then Jeanne and Marie, whom she had persuaded, got permission for her to go again to the place of the vision.

It was Sunday, a lovely day just on the eve of spring. The three girls went first into the church, and prayed there, filled a bottle they had brought with holy water, and, thus armed, went in their simplicity towards the Grotto of the Vision. Bernadette suggested to the other two that they should say the Rosary together, and the little girls accordingly recited the kindly and began the sign of the Cross on her own brows. Then Bernadette too could cross herself, and began to say her prayers -- the Lord's Prayer, the Hail Mary, and the Creed. The Lady seemed to listen with pleasure to the last word, and when it was uttered vanished.

Bernadette seeing the vision no more, looked, round, stood up, crossed the brook, went closer to the Grotto, peered within, and searched around it, but saw nothing except the wild rose-tree and the wilder rock. "Have you seen anything?" she called to her companions. They called back, "No!" She said no more. But that day, haunted by her vision, she told her mother what had happened, and her sister. The poor family thought their child was de-luded, and resolved to forbid her return to the rocks of Massabielle. She was ordered to avoid the place, and for two days she obeyed. Then Jeanne and Marie, whom she had persuaded, got permission for her to go again to the place of the vision.

It was Sunday, a lovely day just on the eve of spring. The three girls went first into the church, and prayed there, filled a bottle they had brought with holy water, and, thus armed, went in their simplicity towards the Grotto of the Vision. Bernadette suggested to the other two that they should say the Rosary together, and the little girls accordingly recited the prayers, telling their beads as they prayed.

Suddenly Jeanne and Marie saw that the face of Bernadette was changed. They surmised that the Unknown -- to them the Unseen -- was there. "We have got the holy water, they said. Bernadette rose from her knees, took holy water, sprinkled it towards the Grotto, and said, as had been resolved: "If you are from God, come nearer; if you are from the devil, go back." The Lady had smiled and had drawn towards her. Then Bernadette knelt again and went on with her Rosary. When she had said the last word the Lady vanished.

That evening Lourdes had heard the story of the Vision, and its people talked of nothing else in its streets. Those who knew the child believed, at all events, in her sincerity; others, of course, thought that nothing had taken place except a child's lie. Two women resolved to go with Bernadette to the Grotto. The Thursday following -- the eighteenth of February --these two, Madame Millet and Mdlle. Peyret, went to Mass, and after Mass across the Gave to the border of the brook. Bernadette reached the place first, and fell on her knees. Immediately her companions saw from her aspect that the Vision was there. They asked Bernadette whether they should withdraw, for fear their presence was not desired. But the Lady had made a sign that all should go to their knees together. They lighted a candle. "Ask her to write what she wishes," said the women to Bernadette, putting into her hands the writing materials they had brought. The child went nearer to the Grotto, but only to see that the Apparition was retreating. Bernadette followed, and passed into the place where the altar now is. The Vision was inside, in the Grotto, and there Bernadette asked for a written word. The answer she received was spoken:

"What I have to tell you need not be written. Only do me the favour to come hither for fifteen days."

Bernadette promised.

"And I," said the Lady, "promise you that I will make you happy; not, indeed, in this world, but in the other."

The two women, to whom the child repeated these words, asked whether they also would be allowed to go with her. To her question the Lady answered:

"They may come with you, and others as well. I wish to see numbers of people here."

This was all. The Vision disappeared within the overwhelming light which, to the eyes of Bernadette, filled the Grotto continually.

On their return to the town Bernadette and the two women were surrounded and questioned. They related what Bernadette had seen. From that day forward the popular excitement rose high. The civil authorities took alarm. M. l'Abbé Peyramale, the parish priest, thought it prudent to forbid the clergy of the town to visit the Grotto. The Bishop of Tarbes imposed the same prohibition upon the clergy of the whole diocese.

But everybody examined Bernadette. Physicians and the newspapers talked of a case of catalepsy. Some attempts were made to bully the child. She answered, with constant simplicity, every question, never contradicted herself never faltered. During the course of the Apparitions the physicians who saw her discovered no signs of nervous disorder. The accusations of deception grew silent in face of her invariable candour. On the Friday and Saturday Bernadette's pilgrimage to the Grotto was shared by her father and mother. They believed their child absolutely when they saw her face as she knelt beholding the Lady, who, as lovely, as gentle, as tender as before, manifested her presence to her little seer.

On Sunday, the twenty-first of February, a considerable throng of people were by the riverside. At dawn dwellers far up in the mountain had set forth for Lourdes. Bernadette went at her usual hour, knelt down, and saw the Lady. "What are we to do?" asked the child, and heard the answer -- the second communication by speech that had been made to her:

"Pray for sinners."

The face of the visitant was clouded with sadness. But she smiled before she went, and wore, as before, her array of light.

On the twenty-third the Apparition took place again. Bernadette, now backed and followed by a concourse of people, had prayed long and had seen nothing when she heard the words:

"Bernadette! what I have to tell you is for you alone, concerns only you, and is a secret. Will you promise me not to repeat it in this world ?"

The visitant was there.

"I promise," answered the child. The secret was spoken.

"And now, my daughter," said the visitant, go and tell the priests that my wish is to have a chapel raised to me in this place, and that processions are to be made to this Grotto."

Then followed the disappearance.

On the twenty-fourth of February the vision took place again, and again the visitant spoke:

"Penitence! Penitence! Penitence!"^{1}

The words were spoken, said Bernadette, very slowly.

On the twenty-fifth Bernadette went again to the Grotto. The throng had doubled its numbers. Each day the people gathered by the waterside and awaited there the coming of the child. The same things happened. At a certain moment, all who saw the face of Bernadette perceived that she had the vision. They kept the most absolute silence. That day, after greeting the child with a smile, the visitant spoke:

"My daughter, I wish to entrust you with a last secret, which is for you and for none else, and which, like the former secrets, you must not tell to any man on earth."

The Lady spoke. The bystanders relate that Bernadette's face was expressive of the utmost happiness, as though the words of the visitant caressed her. When the secret was told the visitant added:

"Now go and drink of the fountain and wash in it, and eat of the grass that grows close by."

Bernadette arose and went towards the Gave.

"Do not go there," said the Lady. "I did not say, `Drink of the Gave,' I said, `Drink of the fountain.' It is here."

The child followed the direction of the visitant's pointing hand, and seeing no spring, set about scratching the sandy earth with her fingers. At once a few drops of water sprang up. Bernadette filled the hollow of her hand; the water seemed too muddy to drink, but after a few moments' hesitation she swallowed a little and ate a little of the grass. The Vision withdrew.

The crowd had followed these actions with profound surprise, not guessing what Bernadette might be about. When Bernadette had left the spot a great number of the spectators went in and saw the spring. The little thread of water increased visibly. Towards evening it flowed into the Gave.

This revelation of a spring until then unknown convinced the people. The mountain population, having the native faith of primitive days, and taking gladly a sign from the nature they knew so well, were persuaded that the visitant of Lourdes was none other than the Blessed Virgin whose image they had in their churches. From that hour the pilgrims to the Grotto were to be counted by their thousands.

On the twenty-seventh of February, on the first of March, on the second, third, and fourth, the Lady came, but came in silence. On the twenty-fifth of March, the day of the Annunciation -- Lady Day -- Bernadette went to the Grotto with some foreknowledge that her going that day would be memorable. At her going forth all Lourdes was astir, and cries of "Here comes the Saint" (so she had been popularly called for some days past) greeted the little peasant's figure; the townspeople followed it to the rocks of Massabielle.

It was a dazzling morning of the Southern spring; the snow aloft and the green below were vivid with the kindling sun, and the sky had the vernal blue. Violets were thick between the river and the rock. The visitant showed herself.

Bernadette made a request four times. "Oh, my Lady," she said, "tell me who you are. Let me know your name." The child avers that at every repetition of the prayer the visitant's face brightened; it wore a new and newer look of joy. When the words had been spoken for the fourth time the Lady opened her arms, letting her rosary slip down on her right arm, then held her hands out to the child, and then joined them again breast-high. She said: "I am the Immaculate Conception."

Then, for the first time, the child knew of a truth that her visitant was Mary, the Blessed Virgin, the Mother of Christ, who had revealed herself to a little girl, by a little town in a corner of provincial France. Bernadette turned to the people and repeated, as a message to them wherewith she had been entrusted, the words that had completed and fulfilled the vision. The multitude pronounced after her the title, "Immaculate Conception."

On the fifth of April the vision took place again. That day the child had a lighted candle in her hand; and bystanders report that they were made aware of a little of the supernatural, inasmuch as Bernadette, absorbed during the progress of the vision, had forgotten her light, and had unconsciously held the fingers of one hand in the flame. When all was over, and she rose from her knees, there was no sign of burning in her little hand.

Finally, the Blessed Virgin appeared for the last time to Bernadette on the tenth of July, the day dedicated to Our Lady of Mount Carmel. At eight o'clock in the evening the child felt that she was called to the Grotto of the Apparition. When she drew near she found that the barriers which had been placed about the ground prevented her closer approach. She stopped, therefore, on the bank of the Gave, and, taking her rosary, began to pray. The Blessed Virgin appeared to her in silence, and bent her head to the child. This salutation proved to be the signal of farewell -- a farewell that was final for this world, and the sign and promise of a tryst in the world to come. The Apparition passed away in the light that had always come with it, and Bernadette Soubirous never beheld it again.

Such is the brief account of the Miracle of Lourdes. Obviously it is compiled from tradition. It has no documents on which to rest except what were put on record from the words of Bernadette. What she said, and what those to whom she spoke noted or remembered of what she said, furnishes all the evidence we have. It is not all that we shall have. The last word on the Apparitions has not been written. Safe in the keeping of a convent, not far from the place where all took place, a manuscript lies awaiting publication in the course of events as they shall be ordained in the Providence of God.

1 The word pénitence is equally well translated "penance."